


Angel (Be My Demon)

by RosVailintin



Series: No Control [2]
Category: X-Men (Movieverse)
Genre: Alpha Warrren Worthington III, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Cage Fights, Knotting, Late Night Writing, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Marking, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Omega Kurt Wagner, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Scent Marking, Scents & Smells
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-28
Updated: 2017-07-28
Packaged: 2018-12-05 02:35:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11568543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RosVailintin/pseuds/RosVailintin
Summary: 'Tell me your name, Nightcrawler.'The boy freezes. A moment later, he blinks twice and responds, 'K - Kurt...Wagner.' The 'w' is pronounced as 'v'.Warren pulls a little smile, 'Right, Kurt.' He reaches Kurt in one stride and crashes their lips together, right hand on the back of the boy's neck holding his head down.





	Angel (Be My Demon)

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [Angel (Be My Demon)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11637528) by [RosVailintin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RosVailintin/pseuds/RosVailintin)



> Feel like writing PWP because I'm so bored...And because I read a few really good SuperBat and HalBarry porn yesterday, and some Creves ones today.  
> Starts from the cage fight in _Apocalypse_ (revised timeline in general) but not all canonical. Nightcrawler didn't mean to hurt Angel, he found Angel before Apocalypse did, Angel doesn't hate him, and for Angel I've mixed the original and revised timelines so this Angel is Warren in _The Last Stand_. Btw, same height difference as in _Apocalypse_ (Warren 178cm, Kurt 188cm)!  
>  I'll probably translate it into Chinese some day. Just realised I've never written porn in Chinese lmao.  
> The title is from a French song called _Mon Ange_ by Jena Lee. The last line of its refrain is 'Oublie l'ange, deviens mon démon.'  
>  Angel is in heat!  
> Here we go.

We're on the ground, we're screaming. I don't know how to make it stop. I love it, I hate it, and I can't take it, but I keep on coming back to you.

\- Louis Tomlinson ft Bebe Rexha & Digital Farm Animals·Back To You

* * *

'Ich präsentiere ihnen -'

Warren tidies his jet black leather jacket and runs a hand through his soft blond curls.

'Den Erstaunlichen, den Unglaublichen -'

The next prey is locked in a large metal case wrapped up in chains, being pushed to the only opening of the cage.

'NIGHTCRAWLER!'

In contrast of the sarcastically enthusiastic introduction, what drops out of the case is an embarrassed little blue creature. A blast of the fragrance of night-scented stock makes its way through the odor of sweat, dirt and all other people, and it strikes Warren like icy water. The creature - He, Warren decides, an omega, by the way - has dark fluffy hair covering the right half of his face, sharp claws, a long pointed tail, and bright yellow eyes. These eyes are open wide and full of fear, looking around in panic, and they glow on his night-blue skin like two stars. The crowd outside the cage starts laughing; some people tease him with very indecent words. Warren feels tight in his chest, and the wounds on his wings begin to hurt.

It's only a child.

This child doesn't understand what is happening, and he has no idea what is waiting for him. When I was pushed into the asshole's lab, thinks Warren, at least I could guess what was going on.

The blue boy nervously gets up from the ground, keeping balance with his tail. Warren spreads his wings and flaps them, but it's mostly habitual rather than aggressive; he is not going to attack.

Nightcrawler still gets flustered. He was told that he would meet 'Angel'. He only knew the angels in the Bible; he couldn't believe that the messenger of God would ever take a look at the son of Azazel. He didn't know what to expect. Kurt is definitely afraid of the young man in front him, but amazement soon rides over the fear - He has never seen a pair of wings so strong and so beautiful, not on anyone in any circus he's ever been in. When the wings move, they smash the air and create a perfumed current that can be felt even metres away. They should really belong to the heaven. Then, Kurt becomes aware of his accelerating heartbeat and the fact that he is uncontrollably teleporting everywhere. Waves of scent pouring over him with every flutter of Angel's wings almost drown him; he comes to realise that his head is getting dizzy, and in the dizziness, he also wonders why the scent of this alpha is so concentrated. He is very close to a conclusion, and the alarm already rings in his head -

Pssst! 'Ah!' A random teleportation crashes him into the wall of wires. He barely has the time to scream before electricity shuts off his senses. A certain man says something in German, but he doesn't understand it.

The unconsciousness doesn't last for long. Kurt reopens his eyes, and in his blurry vision there is something dazzlingly white. He blinks several times trying to see clearly, but the scent wakes him first - For an instant, Kurt feels as if he had known this scent for a long time. Angel is standing high up on the beam facing him, his wings open but relaxed. Even with all the dirt, blood stains and wounds, those long feathers look almost transparent under the light. Warren notices that Nightcrawler is staring at him instead of standing up, and that these eyes are so large and so clear. The smell of night-scented stock surrounds him, taking the place of the odor of sulphur. Something inside his body is stirring. Oh no, he says to himself, not now.

He shakes the edge of his wings as an alarm, both for the boy and for himself. Nightcrawler hears the sound, and like being struck by a flash, he jerks and blinks rapidly, his cheeks turning purple - Wait, is that a blush?

Warren catches a glimpse of the blue boy biting his lower lip before the latter suddenly appears next to him with dark smoke, the smell almost choking him. He wants to calm the child, but Nightcrawler's gritting teeth show that he refuses to let him get even one step closer. He must have mistaken it as a hostile action, Warren thinks with a sigh, because in these eyes, there is no sign of danger. The poor blue guy's scent is getting overwhelmingly strong, but he isn't aware of it at all. Warren hops off the beam and completes a beautiful landing, wings forming a perfect arc. Of course he knows how attractive his wings are; they are one of the things that he is the most proud of, and that is why he chose to break out from that lab. No one knows that when he smashed the window, it hurt like millions of needles piercing into his skin, so much that he almost couldn't soar up again.

He looks up at Nightcrawler, who is staring back at him. Warren can't see his expression well. Kurt tries to analyse this situation with the only bit of sobriety left. The right half of Angel's face is in the light. At this moment, Kurt agrees that this mutant below him truly deserves the name, and he has an illusion that these golden-green eyes are watery. Their audience is really loud, but he can hear his own heartbeat, fast and violent. Warren is holding back his scent from becoming too threatening, but Nightcrawler is a huge distract.

'Fight!' Angel shouts, blond curls trembling. Kurt is simply shocked that he has just talked to him. Angel spares a glance at his right side, and turns back to meet Kurt's eyes, 'Or they'll kill us both!'

Kurt follows Angel's glance. Some men in black outside the cage are watching them with sharp eyes, loading their guns. He looks at Angel. Dark veins can be seen on the young man's neck; his rosy lips are parted and tense, revealing the neat teeth. The words are quite menacing, but Kurt finds no malevolence in his eyes; instead, he recognises anxiety, concern, fatigue, and - and fear. He was told that Angel was undefeatable. A strongly scented wave strikes him and reminds him of the current situation. Kurt clenches his teeth - What is he even thinking about? Why is he staring? Staring is impolite; he's been punished enough times for that. His face is turning hot, and he gets ashamed at the idea that Angel probably can see it. His fingers are curled up into fists. Angel takes a step back. This move makes Kurt realise that he has revealed his canines - The audience at the circuses didn't like to see them, he remembers; plus, he seems to have scared Angel.

Words of comfort just instinctively come to the tip of his tongue, and his spinal cord has decided to teleport before his brain receives the signal. Warren is still worrying about what the blue boy wants to warn with the shiny white teeth when Nightcrawler suddenly vanishes and reappears so close that he has to tilt his head. The scent from the omega mixed with the smell of sulphur makes breathing really hard. At this distance, he sees every pattern on the boy's face; he has no idea how they formed, but he finds them charming in its own way. He can feel the little changes in his body, and he knows very clearly what they mean. He's just so grateful that the black jeans hide them quite well. Nightcrawler's irises are like two stones of amber whose colour covers every shade between gold and vermillion; these large eyes are lined with long, thick eyelashes, and are avoiding his gaze. The next moment, the blue, full lips nearly touch his. The boy immediately disappears like a frightened kitten, leaving only sulphur-scented, dark blue smoke.

What am I even doing? Kurt tries to ignore that his skin is hot like burning. One more sin. He's the child of Azazel; no matter what, he is not supposed to get so close to such an angelic being. Actually, he is not supposed to get so close to anyone, because nobody will like a skinny, ugly blue creature with scary claws and a funny tail. He reappears behind Angel hoping that the latter doesn't see how purple his cheeks have become, but for Warren, it looks like Nightcrawler wants to catch him off guard. He makes a U-turn, carefully keeping the wings from touching the electric cage. His scent has grown so strong that it's slightly pungent, making his blue opponent frown. Kurt finally recognises the sweet smell of lily of the valley - He has only seen the flower once, when the Munich Circus was touring in France, on the first of May. He clumsily takes a few steps back and decides that they should get to the centre of the cage where there is more room for the wings. But why isn't Angel cooperating? They're walking in circles like a binary star in the narrow end of the cage; every single move of Angel is smooth and powerful. Kurt struggles to catch up with his pace, but Angel seems to have a plan. He turns fast, wings straightening up behind him, and Kurt fails to follow. The wires are coming closer and closer to his face. In the hurry, he doesn't count how many times he teleports, but it must be a lot, because he can see his own smoke. Angel stands.

Kurt feels that his tail whips something. He winces in pain, but then a much more terrible idea appears -

'Uuuggghhh -'

The sound of electric sparks.

The crowd's shocked and pitiful exclaiming.

The smell of burnt feathers mixed with the scent of lily of the valley.

What have I done?

WHAT HAVE I DONE?

Don't cry. You don't have the right to cry, you sinful child of the Fallen Angel.

You lashed him and threw him onto the electric cage, wings first. He slid down to the ground. The cry was...was heartbreaking. He didn't make one more sound, not even a single groan. He is standing up, biting his lip to hold back the winces. He slowly spreads his wings - It was the easiest yet most elegant move, but now, it's such a struggle. Look at him; he's showing them to YOU. The entire left wing is damaged, half of the feathers burnt, the marginal coverts completely carbonised; even blood has been vaporised.

It's all because of you, Kurt Wagner. This is what you have done.

Warren wishes he could faint when electricity travelled through his veins and almost tore him into pieces. By the way, it's not the normal level of voltage. But it's already happened, why does he still care? The pain soon turns his left wing numb; he keeps the balance with the right one. All the harshest lines are ready between his lips; it's just about order. The sweet scent of the delicate yet poisonous flower quickly fills the whole cage. If the little demon flees, let him.

Warren meets the culprit's eyes. They're of a dark golden colour under the sparkling light, open wide, full of terror. The skinny body is trembling uncontrollably; a lock of dark hair falls from his sweaty forehead and covers his right eye. His lips are parted, shivering, but nothing comes out. Warren takes a few steps forward, and the scared little blue thing stumbles back right away. He doesn't even teleport. Warren narrows his eyes.

'Sorry!' The boy apologises in a shaky voice; his accent is strong, and the /r/ is retroflex. He stretches his hands out in front of his chest in a defensive pose, panting loudly, looking up at Warren. Warren is just about to spit all the curses in his face when all of a sudden, he finds he just can't. That's...tears in these eyes?

Five years ago, in the same cage. Exactly three weeks after Warren's 18th birthday. It was his first fight as 'Angel', and he defeated the dangerous-looking mutant simply by striking him with his wings. He doesn't remember the man's name, and he didn't get to see his best powers. The only thing left in his memory is that he watched the poor guy being killed right then right there by electricity. His eyes were watery; he felt sinful. The first thing he wanted to do was to apologise.

I must have looked just like this, thinks Warren.

The child's out-of-tune voice doesn't stop pleading, 'I'm so -' Interrupted by a sob that he holds back, 'I'm sorry!' Nightcrawler is still shrinking back. If he takes one more step, his tail will touch the cage. Warren takes a little step back.

A few explosions occur above the cage; the audience is leaving.

Warren glances around and flies up to the highest beam, suppressing a cry of pain. There is one plate that can be removed by hand; the cables are damaged in the explosions. The armed guards are waiting below. He doesn't have many choices now: Stay and wait to be killed, or push through the bullets like he once did before.

Shut your eyes, take a leap. Gunshots come from beneath, but Warren can't duck. Pain soaks into his bones every time he flaps the wings as new bullet holes appear one by one; the best he can achieve is preventing himself from gliding downwards. It must be the power of magic that he survives.

When he finally spares a glance over his shoulder, Nightcrawler is gone.

 

Kurt keeps blaming himself for abandoning Angel like that. Actually, Angel was the one to leave him behind, but he didn't know whether he made it out or not. He heard gunshots; then there was Raven coming out of nowhere, and he teleported to bring her out of the chaos. He often thinks of Angel, of the injured wing, and he hears the blood-curdling shriek in his nightmares. This is his sin, and he can't escape. When Angel looked down at him, he watched the fury and hate in those green eyes turn to something else he didn't understand. He fears to know what he was thinking, and he fears the fact that he cannot know.

He has to find Angel.

 

Warren wakes up on the ground of the abandoned church. He is lying on his right side in a very uncomfortable pose. Granules of dust are blown up by a current of air he expels. He curls his legs and pushes himself up with the left hand, gasping at the soreness in his back and the pain in the rib cage. The stretch of his body makes him wince at how tight the jeans are at the crotch. His left wing still hurts, but the itch tells him that it's healing little by little. There's a wave of heat inside his abdomen rolling like a fireball, and the blood in every vein is like boiling. Damn, Warren silently swears - He doesn't care it's a church. He struggles to stand up, but his exhausted wings almost pull him down. There he remembers - After having miraculously got rid of the guards, he headed straight to this church half-flying half-gliding. In his early days in the living hell, he developed a mild depression, and the church became his sanctuary. At first, every flap hurt, so much that tears blurred his vision; then the muscles turned numb. The bleeding wings finally couldn't bear his weight any more, and he landed with a stumble. The church was less than a hundred yards in front of him, but walking this distance took him forever. The last thing he knew was darkness.

Light from the open gate bathes him. Warren hates it; dragging the heavy wings, he hides back into the shadows. Nightcrawler appears in his mind again. There's no way that he misses the little blue devil, but something about the child seems to have been branded in his head, like the way the patterns were branded on the boy's face. Maybe it's his eyes, the way they looked into Warren's - He can't deny that when he thinks of the gaze, his skin turns hot, and a shiver travels from his chest to the imprisoned object between his legs. He doesn't remember when was the last time he saw a pair of eyes this clear and innocent. Innocent - Warren glances at the broken feathers beside him. No, he says to himself, Nightcrawler is NOT INNOCENT AT ALL. He destroyed his wings, along with his scarred pride that he had been collecting for five years, scatter by scatter, behind which was every drop of blood he lost. The audience would finally cheer for him, the opponents would finally fear him, there was finally a praise of true admiration for him, and then, everything returned to the beginning with one incredibly powerful strike of the blue tail. And the sinner apologised.

Warren sneers. He raises up his chin and lets out a long, tired sigh. Strength is gathered to the root of his wings, and is spread to the end of every conscious nerve. This is all he has. With an unrestrained roar, he rises from the ground. Pain. He knows that he will no longer fly, but he desperately needs this feeling of being surrounded by air and nothing else, even if this is the last time. For some reason, he thinks of the thorn bird. His sound echoes in the empty church like the music of the organ from the rusty past. Warren lands on the highest beam where no light can reach him. The air is cooler here, and he hopes that it can wash away the burning desire that's gradually growing wilder. He sits and lets the wings droop down, legs swinging. Gifted with the vision of bird of prey, he can see tiny particles of dust falling in the glow of daybreak. The blood stain on the ground has dried, a few broken feathers sticking to it.

The peaceful sight does nothing to the heat. His chest is heaving, breath fast and heavy, and his skin is soon covered with a thin layer of sweat. The visage of the little devil is still haunting him. 'For fuck's sake!' Warren lets it out loud. He roughly gets rid of the black leather jacket and the stinky white tee, their fragments dropping like hail. The jeans are painfully tight; he unbuckles the belt, pulls down the zipper, and squeezes his right hand in.

'Shit.' Touching the damp that has soaked his pants, he says under his breath. His hand starts moving, his head thrown back in pleasure, the wing talons digging into the wooden beam to balance his shaking body. The scent of lily of the valley quickly pervades the air.

Then Warren feels that something is wrong.

Before he stops his hand, dark sulphur-scented smoke appears at the gate with a snap. Nightcrawler stands there, the morning light behind him, and Warren can't see his expression. This scene is familiar, he thinks. He rubs his hand on the jeans and pulls up the zipper; the buckle takes more time, because he doesn't want to make any noise. The talons are still hooked in the wood.

Nightcrawler is in a different red jacket and a different pair of black trousers. He cautiously walks in, looking around, as if there were traps waiting for him. Warren guesses that the boy's probably come to find him, but he doesn't move.

The air is heavily scented with the fragrance of lily of the valley. Kurt takes a deep breath, closes his eyes and nervously calls, 'Angel?' He hears his weak voice and blushes out of shame. He deserves any punishment; how does he even have the right to be afraid?

No response. Professor Charles said he was here - Cerebro located him here, so he must be. He is so badly wounded that he cannot run away during the time of teleportation. Kurt inhales deeply -

'There's no Angel here.' A voice suddenly sounds from high above. Kurt's gaze follows it in surprise and anxiety.

It's the moment when Warren's feet leave the beam that he meets these large amber eyes. His wings mostly work as a parachute, and this eye contact with the look on the boy's face almost makes them twitch. His body temperature is creeping up, maybe as part of the effect of falling - Of course not, Warren gives himself a roll of eyes. He tries to pay no attention to the perfume of night-scented stock and concentrate on not crashing into either the ground or Nightcrawler, but he still fails to play it cool; the weight difference of the wings nearly turns him over, and it's not until now that he is truly grateful for his strong waist and abdomen.

Nightcrawler doesn't laugh. He watches Warren with great concern, the long tail staying close to his legs. After making sure that Warren can stand on his own, the blue boy licks his lips and calls again softly, 'Angel?' His tongue is pink.

It's Warren who wants to laugh. He's no Angel any more - He never was.

The boy gets uneasy about Warren's silence and the overly concentrated scent. He bites his lower lip and moves approximately half a yard closer, observing his reaction. Warren notices that Nightcrawler is fighting back the urge of glancing at his naked upper body, and he secretly smirks. In any other situation, when he's in heat and an omega is this close in front of him, he will definitely take action. But this one is special. The hate is fading; Warren now finds him very amusing. He's going to speak, and Warren waits.

Kurt avoids Angel's stare and looks at his feet, 'I...I'm very sorry - I apologise for what happened in the cage...' He wishes he doesn't have to listen to his own voice; he can feel Angel's eyes on him, which is really awkward. 'I truly didn't mean to hurt you; I...' Kurt decides not to ramble about being the son of Azazel, 'I have never wanted and will never want to hurt an angel -'

'I've said there's no Angel here.' Warren can no longer keep a stone face. Nightcrawler lowers his head, dark blue eyelashes trembling; the sweet scent filling the air is working really well on him, because almost his whole body has turned purple.

'I'm sorry!' The blue boy twines his six fingers together, 'I mean...I...'

This is too much. Warren raises a hand telling him to stop, and in the stare of the frightened eyes, he walks to the omega until there is only half a yard between them. For the first time, he becomes aware of how tall Nightcrawler actually is. Standing this close, it feels like being in a field full of night-scented stocks, and Warren thinks he will probably faint from the scent and his desire. Yes, the fire of desire that's burning savagely inside him. He is just about to talk when his excited dick twitches. 'Fuck!' He mumbles, shifting uncomfortably.

Kurt jumps a huge step back, eyes open wide, and his right hand subconsciously draws a cross in front of his chest. After a second, he breaks out, 'This is a church! You just cursed in a church, and your prayers will not be listened! And...and even if you're not an angel, even if you don't pray, you cannot curse in a church! It's an -' He is going to say that it's an unforgivable sin, but the confused and shocked look on Angel's face reminds him that the man in front him probably doesn't want to hear it. 'It's very, very, very bad!' He goes instead.

The enthusiastic child is panting, his irises turning vermillion, and a deep flush climbs up his face. His scent wraps Warren up in a blink's time, hot and strong. He wants to go on, but Warren cuts him, 'Tell me your name, Nightcrawler.'

The boy freezes. A moment later, he blinks twice and responds, 'K - Kurt...Wagner.' The 'w' is pronounced as 'v'.

Warren pulls a little smile, 'Right, Kurt.' He reaches Kurt in one stride and crashes their lips together, his right hand on the back of the boy's neck holding his head down. These blue lips are even softer than he expected, and sweeter than his scent. 'Ngh...' Kurt obviously has no experience of kissing at all, and he can do nothing but let Warren take what he wants. Warren easily opens his teeth, and his tongue slides in to tease Kurt's. To his surprise, the little omega accepts him immediately, and is even learning to respond. Warren closes the last gap between them, his warm, naked chest pressing on the cold leather jacket. His free left hand decides to peel it off. From the corner of his eyes, Warren sees a white tee loosely covering the skinny body. He puts half of the attention on the kiss, and spares the other half for his left hand to draw circles around a tiny bump underneath the fabric. The strange touch makes Kurt shiver, but the moan gets stuck in his mouth where their tongues are tangling. Warren's fingers have played for long enough with one nipple and is heading for the other. The thin, white fabric can barely hide the dark purple colour.

Kurt's hands climb on Warren's waist. Warren gets really delighted, and his wings spread out instinctively to encircle them, despite the unhealed cuts, burns and bullet holes. He notices the irregular heaving of the boy's chest, and breaks the kiss in fear of suffocating him. The swelling blue lips chase his, asking for more. The erection imprisoned in the jeans hurts like hell; Warren keeps the right hand on Kurt's neck, and uses the other to get rid of the jeans and underwear. He looks up at the omega. Kurt has not yet got over the kiss, his watery eyes unfocused. The blue skin has turned totally purple, and in the golden morning light, the uneven patterns are just pieces of art.

With several brief moves, the white tee, the black trousers and the dark grey trunks - When was the last time Warren saw a guy in trunks, by the way? - all find themselves on the ground far away. 'Uh!' Kurt gasps as he realises that he's all naked, and he finally remembers to wonder what is happening. His body has never been exposed to anyone in this way, and all at once, he doesn't know where to place his hands and tail, nor where to look; his cheeks are hot like burning, and he prays that they're not too purple. He restlessly glances around, and the injured wing enter his sight. The memory of the cage fight floods back, and he turns away as if being frightened, ducking the golden-green eyes in front of him. Warren watches without a word. Their scents wreathe each other, heated up by sunlight.

Warren stands on his toes and whispers beside Kurt's pointed ear, 'Not Angel. Warren.' Hot breath tickles the sensitive skin, and the tips of the boy's ears blush so much that they're almost black. Kurt's head is still a mess, and taking this opportunity, Warren grabs the boy's round, soft butt cheeks and gives them each a rough squeeze. Before Kurt can gasp, he is lifted off the ground by a pair of strong hands under his thighs, and their dicks touch, both semi-hard. Kurt tries to calm his accelerating breath but in vain; he has never experienced anything close to this, and he has completely no idea what he should do. Surrounded by the wings, he dares not teleport; he throws his arms around Warren's neck, but he doesn't know where to put his sharp claws. The tail sways behind him to keep the balance, and Warren suddenly has a bold idea.

Kurt's warm breath falls beneath his jawline, and the well-concealed gland on the back of the omega's neck is revealed to him. He lifts Kurt higher so that the latter can sit on his left arm, and he reaches out the right hand to touch the blue tail. His finger has barely settled on the skin when Kurt shivers so violently that he almost falls off. Almost at the same time, he feels the boy getting hard, sticking against his abdomen. The ache in his own dick gets worse.

Warren withdraws his hand on the tail and presses the fingers at the unexplored entrance instead. The muscles around the little hole tense up straight away, sucking at his fingertips. Kurt wraps his long slim legs tighter around Warren's waist. The heat sweeps through Warren as if the next moment it will burn him into ashes. He closes his eyes and pushes the index finger in. Self-lubricating fluid has started secreting, giving him an easier access into the hot, tight intestine. 'Hmm...Ugh...' Broken moans leak from Kurt's throat, and he feels so ashamed of these sounds he makes. Warren seems to have read his mind; he squeezes the middle finger in and starts thrusting more deeply and forcefully. Kurt's claws clutches at his back, leaving cuts that will heal before noon. When the ring finger slides in, moans become sobs, but the boy's dick straightens up higher, rubbing against the alpha's scalding skin. Precome trickling out from the tip streams down Warren's abdomen into his pubic hair.

He can't hold on any more.

The fingers are pulled out. Kurt suddenly misses the feeling of being filled; it has been a mixture of pain and pleasure that he never knew, and it makes him needy. He bites his lips and blushes at this thought. The loss doesn't last for long before a much bigger, much hotter object penetrates him. 'Ah!' Even with so much preparation, he still cannot help a loud scream; this is so different from the fingers, and he fears that his intestines will be torn into pieces. Warren has only got a quarter of the length in, and to be totally honest, Kurt's intense reaction scares him a lot more than the feeling of splitting the hymen or the blood streaming down from the rift. He suspends there, hesitating about what to do next. The outbreak of the heat has started, and he feels like being carbonised like falling onto the electric cage; on the other hand, he begins to worry about Kurt's loss of virginity. He just holds there, fighting his own instinct.

Suddenly, the tail winds around Warren's leg. The boy is all overwhelmed with this sensation, tightening the grip of his tail trying to sink the alpha deeper into himself. 'As you wish.' Warren whispers with a chuckle. Without warning, he breaks in all at once until he bumps into something. Kurt's body stiffens, nails carving deep into the flesh on Warren's shoulder. A screech is stuck in his throat; his mouth is open wide, but no sound can be made. More liquid flows down from the dripping head of his rigid cock. The smell of night-scented stock grows twice strong. Warren pulls out slowly, getting a whimper from the boy, and roughly thrusts in again. 'Ah - Kr! Kr, kr!' Kurt chokes on his own saliva, the shivers of his body causing the little hole to shrink and take Warren further in. This is the last straw to fully set Warren on fire.

'Ugh...' Grasping Kurt's thighs, Warren starts shoving his hip up repeatedly, the erotic sound of the bulging balls slapping the boy's soft skin echoing in the old church. He steadies the skinny body with the left arm while the fingers of his right hand creep up to stroke the bottom of the tail. 'Uh!' Kurt jerks and comes violently, spurting hot sticky fluid all over the alpha's chest. He buries his burning face in the curve of Warren's neck, and the claws slip out of the bleeding flesh. Warren isn't going to stop; actually, he has just begun. The limp body bounces and quivers with his accelerating thrusts and strokes, and in less than ten seconds, the boy is hard again. Warren pounds in different angles, searching for one certain point in the narrow passage.

'Ngh!' A sudden sobbing moan. Here it is.

Staying in the same direction, Warren plunges again and again as deep as possible, and his glans is knocking on a part extra warm and springy. Kurt feels like something inside him is tickling and going to explode, but this is so strange to him that he can't name it; his body is seeking for more while he doesn't even know more of what he seeks. The only sober thought he has is that he will always be needy, and there will never be 'enough'.

'Uh...Wa - Warren...' He can't stop panting, 'Stop...Ha - Bitte...halt - Warte -' Interrupted by a snivel. Warren doesn't really speak German, but he understands the boy's plead to stop. 'Ngh...Nicht...' A drop of tear falls on his back and dribbles into one of the slashes Kurt left, causing it to smart. Warren shivers, and naturally, his cock buried inside the omega stirs too. To his surprise, the last gateway thus opens. Warren finally takes his right hand off Kurt's tail and grabs the boy's small waist, pulling him closer forcefully enough to crush him. As Warren shoves in through the cervix, Kurt's shriek almost turns him deaf, but the pain is soon drowned in a pleasure that he has never imagined. He comes again the moment the alpha releases the knot. Warren lets himself eject hot, thick semen into the omega's womb; Kurt's tail leaves his leg and rises up in a flick, the sharp edges outlined by sunlight. His hand reaches up to seize the boy's chin, and their lips collide roughly, an unfinished moan swallowed. Saliva streams down and drips onto their naked bodies, dissolving the white stains.

The kiss goes down to Kurt's neck, and Warren is busy rubbing his teeth against these patterns when suddenly, Kurt pushes him and breaks the contact. Warren looks up at him in confusion; the boy's swelling lips are wet and purple like the rest of his skin, amber eyes watery. He leans down and whispers, 'Hold tight.' Warren catches his ears budge. He circles Kurt's waist, not forgetting to give another thrust.

 

'Um...Are you sure?' Ororo glances at Psylocke who has been confident that Angel would be in this church.

The dark-haired girl looks around vigilantly without a word. She narrows her eyes and mumbles, 'Sulphur.'

Apocalypse frowns, staring at his two allies.

Abruptly, Storm coughs. She looks at Psylocke, then points somewhere on the ground with her eyes. Elizabeth follows her gaze and sees the stains of some kind of liquid, a part of them not yet dried. She looks back at Storm and gets a wink.

'Khmm...' Psylocke awkwardly clears her throat, 'Let's go.' She turns around and strides out of the church with Storm.

En Sabah Nur understands nothing at all.

 

'Hi, Professor Logan.' Kurt greets Wolverine like he always does.

Logan smiles back, arms crossed, but freezes halfway. He sniffs, looks at his blue student, and sniffs again.

Kurt tilts his head, and then - Oh. His cheeks turn hot.

He vanishes without even saying goodbye, leaving Logan with only sulphur-scented smoke.

'What?' He grins with a frown, shaking his head, 'I just wanted to say "congratulations".'

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Kudos and comments are very welcome.  
> I don't speak German; thanks to Galaxy Girl for correcting the German parts!  
> Btw _Back To You_ is a really cool song.  
>  Beta'd on 16 August 2017.  
> Beta'd gain on 17 January 2018 lol full of stupid single/plural bugs.


End file.
